Love Story: In The Web of Life, Ken Renshaw [mobi reader android .txt] 📗

days when people canned their own food.Inside the bottle was a very intense bright speck of light, likethe spot a welder makes when he is arc welding two pieces of metaltogether. It was a brighter version of the flashes of light I hadbeen seeing this afternoon while flying.

I was shocked. It took me a few moments torespond. "Am I supposed to let you out or something? You want me totake you to what leader?"

"No," it seemed to chuckle, "We were onlymaking what we think you would call a joke. We thought a burningbush would be too cliché. We were afraid that if we spoke directlyinto your head we couldn't have what you call a conversation. Thisspark is only a convenient focal point."

"A conversation?" I asked, wondering if thedesert had dehydrated me and I was hallucinating.

"Come over and sit in the shade of this bushand relax. We apologize for startling you," said the speck oflight.

I got up, wanted to run, but I walked over tothe shade of a bush, sat down, took several long drags of waterfrom my bottle, paused, and noticed that I felt a great sense ofpeace as I relaxed.

"Now, lets start from the beginning." I said,"If you are not a hallucination or a mirage, who or what areyou?"

The speck of light shimmered, "We understand.With your scientific background and belief system, you will havedifficulty understanding who we are and how it is that we arecommunicating with you. We are communicating with you from anotherplace outside space-time that you do not yetunderstand."

I grew more uneasy and then asked, "We? Who areyou?"

The speck shimmered as it seemed to chuckle andsaid, "You may think of us a group of friends who have formed agroup consciousness that is communicating as one voice. We havenever had bodies. We are un-incarnated intelligences who want tohave a conversation with you. "

"Are you like angels?" I asked.

The speck of light replied, "That is sort ofthe right idea. However, in your civilization you have picturedangels as incarnated into bodies with wings and halos and drapedthem in flowing robes. We don't have bodies to hang wings on. Youhave also made angels employees of your various, shall we say,tribal Gods. Think of us as freelancers."

"Freelancers? Are you some sort of bountyhunter? Am I going to abducted?"

"No." The light blinked. "We come in love andpeace. We only want to communicate with you."

"What do I call you," I asked

"We don't really have a name or names as youthink of it–you can address us as 'Uriel' if you wish."

"OK Uriel, but where are you?" Iasked.

"We have a very different view of reality thanthat earthlings hold." Said Uriel. "We are outside space-time asyou know it."

"You say 'earthlings.' Does that mean you arefrom another planet?" I asked.

"Not really, we think of 'earthlings' as aviewpoint, not as a place. It is what you might call a state ofmind."

I wanted to run, call 911, or something. Thismust be a dream or a hallucination. 'Am I loosing it? Is this adesert madness of some sort?'

"Why are you talking to me? Am I supposed tobecome a prophet or something?" I inquired with sometrepidation.

"No we don't want you to grow a beard and goaround carrying a sign saying 'Repent! The End Is Near.' We want toexplain some limitations of what you call science and expand yourview of reality. We wish you to communicate these ideas throughways you understand."

"Carrying on a conversation with spirits aboutphysical science seems a little inconsistent," I observed in alawyerly way. "You are nonphysical and science deals with thephysical."

Uriel replied, "We want to help you understandthat much of what you consider outside your science really obeysthe laws of your physics. That misunderstanding is constrainingwhole fields of endeavor, such as healing, interpersonalrelationships, and even politics. But, that understanding is a goaland not the starting point. Let's start by discussing limitationson what your schools teach about physics. We can build on thoseideas"

"OK, but I am confused," I mumbled, thinking tomyself, 'I really should run or something.'

"First we will talk about what you already onlypartially understand, the ideas of space and time," saidUriel.

"Oh, I don't understand all that stuff aboutEinstein's Theory of Relativity. I really don't want to go throughall of the math and those weird concepts. One time, I had a patentcase that involved Relativity and I had to search for a technicalexpert. I could never understand him, all I learned was thatRelativity wasn't germane to the patent case," I said in a lawyerlyvoice.

"Einstein's mystique is part of the problem.People on your planet are reluctant to think much about space-timebecause Einstein raised the mathematical hurdle so far. He had onlypart of the answer. His mathematics professor, Minkowski, wascloser to the answer with his theory of eightdimensions."

"I have never even heard of him," I replied."If I don't understand Einstein's mathematics, how am I supposed tounderstand what his professor couldn't teach him?"

"That is what we would ask for you to find outabout," said Uriel.

I said to Uriel, "I think you have the wrongperson. I am a patent lawyer with a science background. I have noidea what you are talking about."

Then, I heard the distant sound of the Pawneetow plane engine, my rescue, guided by GPS satellites, buzzing outto tow me back to CrystalAire. I was using technology as anantidote to my indulgence in flying an airplane without a motor. Hesaw me, cut his engine, and passed over me in a wide circle tocheck the landing conditions. I took off my tee shirt; held itabove my head, let it flap in the gentle breeze to show him thewind direction. He wiggled his wing in acknowledgement, added somethrottle, flew a landing pattern, touched down, and taxied towardme.

I turned to Uriel. The speck of bright lighthad disappeared. I went over and picked up the broken bottle. Itwas only an old piece of glass. I dropped it thinking, 'no point intaking this with me.'

The pilot turned off the engine, opened thecockpit side window and stepped out onto the wing. It was Dan, aman in his thirties, wearing jeans, a white t-shirt, and a cowboyhat over